Screws, Paint, and a Spark

The scent of fresh paint filled the cool morning air, mingling with the rhythmic clanking

of a nearby construction crane. I was waiting for the shutters to groan open so I

could finally finish my kitchen renovation. As the mechanical door echoed off the pavement,

I felt an odd sense of anticipation. It was just another Saturday task, yet the air felt

charged, like the static before a summer storm. I stepped inside,

enveloped by the heavy aroma of raw lumber. I headed for the hardware aisle,

and that’s when I saw him. Marcus was squinting at a crumpled list, his broad shoulders

slightly hunched. We both reached for the same pack of industrial screws simultaneously,